Learn to Love a Beast
by Madhatterai
Summary: (Inspired by Beauty and the Beast) See inside for full summary.
1. Chapter 1

Previously on my ao3.

The Darkness had never been happy with God and his new pets. She especially hated the archangels, and their pretty wings. And when she saw Castiel's beautiful wings, she knew she had to destroy them.

God had given Gabriel a job, to look after Castiel, protect him from the Darkness, and he had been doing just that...until the Darkness found them.

Stripped of his wings, and his charge turned into a beast, Gabriel will do anything to save his little brother.

With an enchantment placed upon them both, they don't have a lot of time.  
But Castiel has turned feral, and Gabriel is desperate.

Years later, someone ventures into their home. Will this person be able to save them? Or will they be doomed to be fallen forever?

...for who could ever learn to love a beast?


	2. Chapter 2

Previously on my ao3

Prologue

Before there was anything, there was nothing.

But before there was nothing, there were two siblings, the Light, who was later known as God, and the Darkness. Brother and sister since the beginning of time itself. God and Darkness were the only ones in the entire universe, and they were happy floating through primordial cosmos, just being together. They were content, playing in the very essence of life before life was born.

Millennia's had passed and they were at peace.

But God felt He had a purpose, He was here for something. So He had an idea. And from that idea He created humanity, He created earth, the universe, the cosmos. The very primordial material they played in, and he had formed _life._

But the Darkness was not happy.

She loved Her brother, and had loved the millennia's they had spent together. But with God's new creation, this thing He called 'humanity', Her blood boiled and the ugly feeling of jealousy erupted within Her.

But She had seen the look of pure joy in His eyes when He found something else to create, something else to grow and cultivate.

She couldn't hate Him for creating something that He played with, but it was that same something had taken His entire focus away from Her. It was supposed to be _Them,_ no one else to worry about, no one to get in their way. Just Her and her brother flying through the cosmos for eternity.

But He changed all of that.

God created the archangels. Four powerful beings that were similar to them both, maybe He had seen how jealous the Darkness was getting, and wanted to do something about it. Wanted Her to understand the greatness in what He had created.

But all the Darkness felt was fury. She was absolutely furious with her brothers new, more powerful, creatures. Though He had created them in their own image, He had given these new archangels weird appendages on their backs so they could fly. Wings, icky, feathery things that were stuck onto their backs, and fluttered at every moment.

She _hated_ those things. And She hated her brother for making them.

But She made do. Because even though they were filthy little winged beasts, the delight in her brothers eyes was almost worth all of the torment She felt inside.

And then God created humans...

And that was it for Her. The creation of those filthy, ignorant, imbecilic little things was the last straw.

There was only one thing She could do.

She would destroy the very things He had created, starting with the archangels He had so lovingly made. And then He'd see the errors of his ways and they would go back to the way they were. When it was just _them._

But, She wanted her brother to suffer.

The first archangel created, Michael, was a problem. He was strong, and resilient in his ways. But She had expected him to be. God himself had been the same when He had created the winged beast of an angel. Michael's very essence to follow every single word God had said, it made Her skin crawl. She knew he would be a problem, so she would leave him for last.

The second, God's favourite, Lucifer was just as bad as his older brother. But She saw the streak of rebellion in him, She wasn't fully aware which way he would go. She _was_ omnipotent, much like her brother, and She had seen much of herself in this archangel, She saw the darkness within Lucifer. And that confused Her. Had her brother created this icky angel under Her image?

She would leave him for last, alongside, Michael.

The third archangel, Raphael, looked easy to kill. He'd be the first She would kill, the first She would destroy.

Then there was the last archangel, the one that glimmered like sunshine. Gabriel, the fastest of all of his brothers. She knew he would be difficult to kill, but it would be so simple. He had been so trusting, so loving, but so very tricky.

She had seen enough, and this would be Her time to reign.

The final battle had been momentous. There had been utter destruction at every single turn.

Both God and the Darkness had lost too much power, too much strength. After a brutal battle the Darkness had been victorious in defeating the archangels, they lay on the ground, racing towards their death. Pure angelic grace and power falling in rivulets over their bodies, their wings stripped, bent, broken.

Oh how she hated those feathery things.

Now it was _His_ turn. She would destroy God, but not kill Him. And while they recovered from their injuries, and the world would plunder to nothing. No more earth, no more humans.

They'd recover and be together again.

Holding Her hand up to his fallen form, she called on all of Her remaining strength, the power swirled through her outstretched arm and poured like a cloud of smoke. But God just stood there, smiling sadly as he watched his sister try to kill him.

She was confused. Why was He smiling?

She didn't notice the small spark of blue behind him, morphing into a human shape, or that one of the archangels hadn't died, but instead had made their way to the little blue ball, picking it up gently and snapping out of the fight.

The Darkness screamed as Her very last remnants of power escaped and engulfed around God, stabbing and slicing into his body, making him scream and writhe as He was lifted up into the air. The Darkness faltered, having used up too much power, and Her hold on God withered.

God fell to the ground with a thump, groaning as He tried to brace himself against the sudden pain. He looked up to see his sister had also fallen. He reached his hand out to Her, offering her his love, because regardless of what she had just done, She was still his sister, He still cared for Her deeply.

He didn't understand why She was acting this way, why She wanted him dead. But He wanted to know, He wanted to know what He had done wrong.

They could fix this, damn it.

But She just looked up at Him from Her fallen position, glaring at His outstretched arm, and disappeared in a plume of black smoke.

This is where our story begins.

It had been many millenia's since the battle between god and his sister. The earth had continued to rotate and thrive, humanity grew and the archangel that had taken the small ball of blue light created by God himself was finally able to settle down and know he was a little safer.

Gabriel was a trickster archangel, the fastest ever created, with six beautiful golden wings that looked like the very sun shone through them. He had held the small morphing orb, the little angel fledgling, close to his chest and had never let him go. He had a job to do, God had created this being with the last of his grace, before he had gone into hibernation to recuperate. This being, this little fledgling, Castiel.

He was important.

Gabriel had moved little Castiel into a small town in the middle of a deserted forest. The little town was quiet, a great place to lay low and not get caught. There were always the same people walking by, doing their usual daily jobs, day in and day out.

Nothing changed here, and no one took any notice of the large house that had erected itself in the heart of the forest. It was like a castle, beautiful, haunting, with a large ballroom and ostentatious bedrooms, dining halls and a garden that boasted beautiful flowers of all kinds.

Laying low was one thing, but Gabriel wanted his little Castiel to have a wonderful childhood. As an angel, his wings were a gorgeous midnight black that looked like they held the entire cosmos in them. They sparkled like little stars were hidden in their darkened depths. Gabriel had never seen anything like them. He had told Castiel to keep them tucked to his back, keep them hidden, but those wings always shimmered and shone every time they fluttered.

With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel was able to conjure up the latest and greatest technologies of their time. They were want for nothing. Castiel was his baby brother, and Gabriel was going to do anything he could to protect him.

But they soon found they were trapped in the house. Gabriel didn't dare let Castiel leave whenever he had to go out for an errand. With the Darkness thinking _him_ dead, she was not looking for signs of archangels. But Castiel's grace was fresh and new, easy to find amidst humans.

So Gabriel had sought friends for Castiel, using the powers he had seen his father use, and brought life to inanimate objects. Castiel had been elated at the new friends, the talking clock, the cute little feather duster, the large armoire. They were lovely, kind, charming and so interesting to talk to.

But the dark was soon to come.

It was one of those nights where everything felt just as it had every other night, when Gabriel found himself leaving for an errand. He had always been adamant to leave Castiel alone in the home, and today felt different than usual.

But thinking nothing of it, he said goodbye to his little brother, telling him to lock the door and not open it for anyone. And then he left, and Castiel returned to his mountain of books in the library Gabriel had conjured up for him.

Hours seemed to have passed, and it was then that Castiel heard a large thudding knock on the entrance door. He looked out of the window, the night was blustery and cold. Gabriel had told him not to open the door to anyone.

But the thudding didn't stop.

Curiosity was too tempting, and Castiel found himself setting his book on the side table, getting up from his favourite seat in the library, the comfy one in front of the large roaring fire place, and made his way through the house and to the incessant knocking.

He stopped in front of the large door, eyeing the sigils and signs that merged into the wood itself. The thudding sounded again, and Castiel hesitantly reached for it.

He opened it to see a pretty woman, with beautiful long hair and dark eyes smile at him, her stretched lips were painted a pale red, she wore a dark cloak that covered her body and a hood that covered her face from the wind and cold.

"Castiel," She said, letting out a sigh as she placed her hand on the door jam, not venturing closer. "I am here for you,"

"Who are you?" Castiel asked, taking a tentative step back.

"Did He not tell you about me?" She smiled, her pretty white teeth shining. "Why, I'm your aunt, sweetie,"

 _This woman was the Darkness!_ This beautiful woman who stood before him, looking so pure and angelic, so enchanting, was the very villain that Gabriel used to tell stories to him about? It couldn't be.

Castiel stumbled back, falling to the ground with a thump as the pretty woman held her hand up in front of him. Her gaze narrowed as she saw those pretty wings. "And I am here to end you, once and for all."

He didn't know what to do, his large wings fluttered behind him as a plume of black fog like smoke erupted from her fingers. He watched in fear filled awe as the smoke seemed to seep into the walls of the house, turning all the beautiful things black and decrepit, it swooped around the large castle, rotting the wood, destroying the curtains and sofas, the televisions and other electronic gadgets blackened and sparked, the lights flickered and smashed. The smoke then turned and engulfed around Castiel, devouring him.

"I curse you little Castiel, curse you with putrid hatred, with death," She growled through the smoke, "You will feel what I felt, no one will _ever_ love you. You will _never_ be free."

Castiel screamed, unable to move as the spell singed through him, burning him from the inside. He felt his body change, his back cracking as his wings snapped open, twisting this way and that as feathers were plucked out or singed completely. His eyes widened as he tried to scream, but it wasn't possible, something was growing in his mouth, his teeth sharpened into fangs, his mouth aching at the sudden change. His body twisted, growing in odd angles.

It hurt. Every single part of his body, down to his very molecules, hurt. They ached and they throbbed as white hot pain seeped into him like a flood, rushing through him until he felt nothing but pain. He wanted to die.

A beautiful golden light erupted through the darkness, the fog dissipating, until it was near gone. Looking up through his wide, tear filled eyes, Castiel saw Gabriel, his older brother, try to fight against the woman, screaming as the Darkness stripped him of his wings, breaking and twisting them until they were nothing but husks of what they once were.

"Fastest no longer, little nephew," The Darkness said, clenching her fingers together, making Gabriel scream. "I curse you both, you will never find any one to love you for the monsters that you are,"

She worried her lips as she continued her onslaught. But even through the pain, Gabriel had lifted his fingers, and with a snap, they were gone, leaving the disfigured Castiel, aching, close to dying, on the marble floor.

One of Castiel's blue feathers floated down on the ground, looking pristine and immaculate, as if they hadn't just been destroyed and blackened by the Darkness's hand, the beautiful cosmos glimmering brightly. Castiel reached for it, holding it close to his chest.

What was he going to do now?


	3. Chapter 3

Glimpse

 _Just note, I don't know a lick about car mechanics outside of what I learned in driving classes, so...take Dean's job with a huge grain of salt._

Dean Winchester hated it here.

The air smelled of iron, smoke and cinder, and the grounds below his feet were rocky at best. He took another look up into the darkened sky and let out a sigh, seeing his breath come out in a white puff. Trudging over the cobblestone path leading out from the centre of town, he grimaced as an upturned rock dug into the heel of his boots.

They should fix the fucking streets for one.

He'd never let his Baby, his pride and joy, his black '67 Chevy Impala anywhere near these roads. He'd rather keep her in the large bunker he and his brother lived in, at the edge of the forest. The roads were carved into the forest, but they were a lot more even than the town.

He would leave, if given the chance. But he'd never be able to, he and his brother had settled here, in this poor provincial town. The only reason he was here in the first place was because of Sam.

The long trek back to his home wasn't new, neither was the cold weather. The bunker they called home was in the mountains, hidden from view. Which was great. Because Sam was eccentric, and they sometimes did experiment's that blew up or caused fires. Or there was that one time with the rocket made out of a junk cars engine that launched into the sky and almost took out a good chunk of the forestry surrounding their home.

Well, he didn't mind all the cool, new gadgets and gizmos he got. Like the rain- imitation shower that pulsed jets from not only the top but the sides and the front as well, and it was always just the perfect pressure and temperature, or the magic fingers bed built into the memory foam of his mattress. Or the large gizmo machinery that created pies pretty much on demand.

He loved his brother for that last one. Being able to just pour ingredients into a machine and have it go from that to a steaming pie was a dream come true.

Shoving his motor oil covered hands into his pockets, he shivered from the sudden cold. Maybe some liquid heat would help?

Eyeing the Harvelle Tavern on the other side of the cobblestone street, Dean saw the rambunctious pub goers inside, drinking, laughing and just having a great time. What would one drink do, eh?

Pushing the doors to the tavern open, he was greeted with a wall of warmth, and the salty scent of mulled wines and beers, sweaty patrons and all sorts of perfumes. He made his way to the bar, pushing passed people, and settled onto the stools.

"Well, well, well, the Beauty of the Town has graced our humble roadhouse," A beautiful young blonde said, appearing almost immediately in front of him, leaning low onto the bar and smirking. "Dean-o, who do I owe the pleasure of seeing your gorgeous face?"

"Thank the crappy Lincoln Continental with a broken master cylinder," Dean said, as he remembered the reason he was here, instead of back home, showered and watching Doctor Sexy MD of that massive television he and Sam had scraped money to get.

That god damned car had taken a lot out of him. And the small, blonde man who had asked for it to be done as soon as possible could shove his car and that wad of cash he had all but thrown on him right up his short ass. "A pack for the road, Jo."

Jo nodded, turning to the older brunette and owner of the establishment, Ellen, and got to work. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, it was a new-fangled thing with GPS, those weird camera functions, stupid apps and god knows what else, alongside all the extra bits and bobs Sam had put into it. But he really didn't need it for anything else other than calling and texting.

His brother hadn't texted him.

...well that couldn't be good.

Usually when Sam didn't text him, it was because he was too in the zone working on his latest invention. Sometimes he'd get so bad that he wouldn't eat or sleep until it was done. Dean had forced him to have breakfast that morning, but it was almost midnight now, so that had been a good eighteen hours ago.

Either that or Sam had blown up the bunker and was injured somehow.

Fuck, he sure hoped it was the former.

A familiar buxom brunette settled onto the stool next to him, her dark eyes roved over his body. She wrapped her arms around his and leaned in close.

"Hey Dean," she said, her voice sultry and low.

"Lisa." Dean said gruffly, looking up to Jo, hoping she'd hurry up. He had nothing against pretty women, but Lisa had been on his ass ever since he and Sam first arrived into town a few months back. That kind of attachment wasn't something he was really into.

Sure, if given the chance, he'd definitely hit that. But every time he looked at her, his mind would sound a large buzzer, telling him that this chic was not the one for him. She wasn't what he was looking for. There was someone better for him out there.

And wasn't that a bitch?

But, he didn't want to just get laid. He wanted a proper relationship with someone. He wanted to be sappy, just sitting around and laughing, going on dates, cuddling after a night together. That was what this was all truly about. But he just couldn't find anyone he was interested in. Sure he had had countless of one night stands, he was after all known as the "beauty of the town" – whatever that meant.

He did not want to deal with her right now, or ever if he had the choice. But people flocked around Lisa, and when she set her sights on something, everyone else noticed too. And everyone noticed Dean because of her.

Thankfully Jo appeared in front of him, handing him a six pack and a big paper bag filled with good smelling food. Looking up, he nodded to Ellen, knowing she had given him and Sam something to eat as well as drink.

Thanking Jo, he stood up, holding back a chuckle when Lisa almost slipped off her chair at his sudden move.

"Where are you going?" She asked, batting her lashes at him.

Dean rolled his eyes. He was not interested, and he didn't bother to answer. He still had a long trek through the forest to get to his home, and the food would only get cold before he even had a chance to get to the front door.

Nodding his exit to Ellen and saying goodbye to Jo, he made his way out of the tavern and back into the cold streets. Shivering, he tightened his jacket over his body, holding the warm food and six pack bottles of beer to his chest as he continued his trek.

The moon was so bright in the sky, illuminating the forest entrance much more than any street light could. Dean traversed through the familiar foliage until he reached the crossroads.

Going ahead lead to the Eastern Forest,

The right side lead to home.

And the left...

Damn, he had always been so curious to know what was down that road. He knew the road ultimately led to the Northern towns, he and Sammy had driven down there a lot of times before when he wanted to sell one of his inventions. But there was this one section, one large area that was walled off, it was covered with vines and moss and looked menacing. Yet every time they passed it, Dean wanted desperately to stop, to see what was inside.

It was like his heart knew something and it wasn't telling him what it was.

His phone chirped in attention as it notified him of a message. Struggling with his purchases, he got his phone out of his pocket and held it in front of him.

It was Sam. "Already ate, going to bed, coming home?"

Typing a quick message to tell Sam he was on his way, just stopped at Harvelle's Tavern, he nodded and looked down to his food. Well, he'd have a nice meal tonight, get a few drinks and sleep when he could.

...but...maybe he could find out what that mysterious place was tonight?

Pulling up the GPS and putting the coordinates for that space, that mysterious place, he waited for the navigational system to direct him on foot. He'd have to walk a lot more, but it might be worth it. After all, what else did he have to do?

Whatever was inside it, Dean was going to find out. Tonight.

The navigation pinged, and Dean saw that it was a bit of a trek, but it lead in a large circle back to the bunker. If he were in Baby, that would be less than a twenty minute drive. That was convenient.

Making his way through the less rocky undergrowth and beaten down path, Dean made his way to the left of the crossroads, smiling in glee at having the chance to finally quell his curiosity. The trek was long, but his adrenaline spiked him, and he continued. He didn't know how long had passed, but he had almost all feeling in his fingers, and his toes were numb. But he trudged on.

Finally, finally he stood in front of the tall stone walls, there was moss and vines climbing over the stone. Putting his food down, he started to climb, using the vines for purchase as he hefted his body up to the very top.

Once he reached the top, he looked up to see a large castle standing in the very middle of the large space. It looked menacing and tall as it reached the moonscape. Right in front of him was a beautiful garden. It was breath taking, there were all different kinds of flowers. The scent alone was intoxicating, not too strong, just enough to make Dean want to never leave. Between the flowers were rustic stone statues of angels in joyous harmony. They were green, mouldy and filled with moss and leaves, but anyone could see that this castle had been a beauty back in its day.

There was a wrought iron angel at the very top of the gate entrance, holding onto a large stone scroll, its face was beautiful, but menacing. Whoever had created this did it so no one would venture into the castle.

Not wanting this moment to go to waste, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out, he started taking pictures of the beautiful gardens, the Gothic castle and the thickened towers that scraped the sky. He needed to show Sam.

Through his camera lens he saw that one of the towers had an open balcony, zooming in closer, he saw dark gossamer curtains and something shining on a table inside at the very edge of the large archway door. Dean was so glad Sam was an inventor. The little genius had upgraded his phone to zoom in even closer. Through that, he saw a small bell jar sitting on a table, a beautiful feather set on it.

...wow.

He just had to take a picture of it.

But he hadn't expected the loud roar, like a lion - or a hawk, he wasn't sure – and something big and white covering the feather. Startled, Dean lost his footing and slid down the wall, landing with a thud of the foliage. Thankful for the leafy fall, he let out a groan at the pain in his back.

What was that?

The roar sounded again, but this time, it sounded...mournful...it made Dean's heart break.

But Dean wasn't going to just wait around for that big white figure to find he had almost trespassed. So he shrugged off the pain, got up, lifting his food into his arms and ran. He didn't stop running until he made his way back to the crossroads.

Stopping for breath, he sat at the corner. His mind ricocheting with what he had just seen. Once he finally caught his breath, he looked up to the skies and let out a laugh.

He did it. He had finally seen what was inside the walls. That asked for a celebratory drink. Taking a bottle out of the pack, he pulled open the metal cap of his beer and took a deep swig of the harsh liquid inside. He reached for his phone and swiped through the photos he had taken. The lush greenery, the colourful flowers, the beautiful stone statues...that feather.

Flipping through he noticed his phone had continued to take bursts of pictures as he fell. He saw someone's hand reach for the bell jar, cover it and then lean their face down.

Dean gasped. The face looked humanoid, like a man, but it was pure silken white, he had whiskers, that looked dewy, and a tuft of fur that looked like cat ears. But he had the most beautiful blue eyes, it was like he had sucked up the entire sky into those pretty orbs.

Wow...

Dean took another long swig of his beer and got up from the frosted earth. Putting his phone back into his pocket, he held the paper bag of food tightly in his fingers and made his way back to the bunker.

What was that man?

* * *

Dun dun duuuuun...

What do you all think about curious!Dean and inventor!Sam?

P.s. I have nothing against Lisa. Please don't take her the wrong way, and she will most likely not follow the same steps as Gaston.


	4. Chapter 4

Coffee

The crows cry echoed through the woods as the sun rose up from the horizon. But Sam paid no attention to it. His face hidden behind the silver welding mask, he held the metal tool that looked like a screwdriver, in his hand, and turned a screw a bolt on the large contraption in front of him. The screwdriver screamed against the metal, sparks flying onto his mask. His empty coffee cup sat on in the corner of the table, almost teetering over the edge. But the inventor paid no heed, too busy having woken up early that morning and gotten straight back to work.

This contraption was what he had spent the last seven months sweating and bleeding over. This invention was going to help the people of the Northern town. It would initially create a plume of warming natural mist that would zero in on the snow that took over the town, heat it up and help with the dwindling irrigation process. Hopefully the people of the Northern town would go back to the way they had been before.

They had been so prosperous before the constant snow. The people were wonderful, happy and the town was famous for its farm lands that grew all sorts of foods. But once the snow hit all those years ago, the farms morphed into tundra. With no own farmed food, and all of their money going into importing, the people became haggard and depressed.

Sam had taken it on himself to have his next greatest invention help the people of the Northern town. And this invention, the one he had spent months and months and months working on would be it.

He only had one more night to make sure his invention worked. He'd had to go to the invention convention in the Northern town to complete it and present it. If everything was successful, then he could sell it and make a lot of money, enough for him and his brother to live happily.

"Mornin' Sammy," Dean's voice drifted through the large garage space.

Sam pulled the steel welding mask from his face and looked up to his brother. Dean was standing by the door, dressed in his usual shirt and sleep shorts and robe and he held a coffee cup in his hand, the coffee steaming. But upon closer look, Sam saw that Dean looked exhausted, his eyes were red and his face was sullen.

"What happened?" He asked, placing his screwdriver down. "Did you not get any sleep?"

"Huh? Oh…" Dean seemed out of it, but he leaned back on the work bench, looking out into the distance. A smirk suddenly rose to his lips. "You'll never guess what I did last night,"

Sam rolled his eyes, recognising that look of ecstatic enthusiasm on his brothers face. He had come back home rather late, Sam had heard the heavy clang of the bunker doors late into the night, followed by Dean muttering something, and walking to the kitchens to heat something that smelled suspiciously like Ellen's roast. He prayed Dean would be nice enough to leave some for him, Ellen's food was to die for. Sam had gone back to sleep, knowing his brother was home.

That smirk on his brothers' face now could only mean one thing. He had probably gotten laid last night.

He slid the welding mask back onto his face and got back to work. "Finally drink yourself into a stupor and succumb to Lisa's advances?"

He could hear Dean gagging in the corner at the thought. "That ain't ever happening."

Sam didn't understand why Dean was like this with Lisa. She was hot, like really beautiful with her long hair and gorgeous face. She wasn't really Sam's ideal girl, but Dean was the kind of guy who flirted with anyone, and this girl was throwing herself at him, and yet he didn't even talk to her.

Was Dean hiding something?

"Then what?" He asked, intrigued.

"I went to that mysterious place." Dean murmured, his eyes getting that faraway look again, his lips stretched into a small smile. What had happened to him? What had he seen?

Dean had been obsessed with that place ever since they had driven passed it all those months back. Sam's inventions always went to the conventions and market places in the Northern town, so they would drive there at least once a week. Dean would always slow down a little as they passed the tall stone walls, and just stare up at the stone, his eyes getting that far away look. But once he got his fill, he'd speed up and drive along the dirt path road.

To think Dean finally stopped and stared, instead of just checking it out while driving passed. It was a great, yet perturbing, experience for Sam to see.

"There was this big house," Dean went on to explain, trying to remember everything he had seen. His phone was too far away, charging in his room. He instead sought to tell Sam what he saw. He could always show the pictures later. Sam slid his mask up as Dean continued to talk. "It was like a castle and the gardens around it were amazing, he was so beautiful,"

Sam smirked at the awe filled look his brother was giving. But then he paused.

"He?"

"I dunno man, there's someone living in there." Dean shrugged his shoulders, remembering the picture he saw of the silken white man with those enchanting blue eyes. "Dude was whiter than a ghost, but he had really pretty blue eyes, I took a picture…wait here, I'll show you,"

Sam watched as Dean placed his coffee cup on the table, next to Sam's, and made his way out of the garage and back to his room. Sam returned to his work while he waited. A few moments later, Dean reemerged into the garage, holding his phone in his hand, swiping through the pictures. Sam was excited, he wanted to see these lush gardens.

"Oh." Dean couldn't find any of the pictures, no pictures of the gardens, of the castle, of that creature, of those eyes. It was like they had completely disappeared. "Where-?"

Sam shook his head. Fine, so Dean saw a garden, but this story about a ghost man. No one lived in that old, decrepit house. Everything about that house screamed "danger", no one had ever scaled those walls. Everyone just assumed it was an abandoned lot. No one had seen anyone enter or leave the plot for decades.

"Dean, you sure you didn't just get drunk at Ellen's?" He asked, reaching for his cup of coffee, seeing it was empty, he grimaced.

Dean growled, swiping back and forth on his phone, trying to look for the picture that Sam was sure wasn't there. "I'm telling you the truth!"

Sam sucked in a deep breath. He picked up his sparking screwdriver and returned to his invention, he had to complete this by tonight, and listening to Dean's drunken memories, however enjoyable they were, was just not something he should be focusing on now. "Dean, that place is decrepit, there are no gardens, or a castle, there is nothing there."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "And you know this how?"

"Two words," Sam muttered, "Google maps."

The grumbling silence from Dean made Sam put the screwdriver back down, lift his mask and get up from his seat. He reached over to his phone and pulled up the maps app, typing in the location, which he knew by heart because of his big brother, he showed Dean the aerial image of the large lot. That's what it was, it was an empty lot. There was nothing there but weeds and a few broken ruins of what may have been a house a long time ago.

"No…no, Sammy. I'm serious." Dean said, taking the phone from Sam's hands and checking the satellite image. But it was all green terrain. No, this couldn't be. "There really is a house there. Look, here they had the fountain with the flowers…and this place there was a balcony. And the starry feather."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. A starry feather?

Dean growled, throwing Sam's phone back at him. "Damn it Sam, I was not drunk, I only had one beer after I saw the place!"

"Alright Dean," Sam let out a sigh. Maybe...maybe Dean was right. He wouldn't create such an elaborate story, no matter how drunk he might have been - and Sam had seen four of the six pack bottles of beer in the fridge. Maybe Dean had one before, and one with dinner. He wouldn't go through two six packs, Ellen wouldn't let him.

So, maybe there was something there? Something secret, like a government conspiracy. Or an off grid safe house?

"I believe you." He said finally.

Dean seemed pleased.

Sam turned to his invention and let out a sigh, there was nothing more he could do about that now, and he had only today to complete it. The rest would be done at the inventors convention itself. If he sold this baby, they would make enough money to settle down and live happily.

"You wanna help me lug this thing into the car?"

Dean looked up to the large dome shaped invention and nodded, sliding his phone into his pocket, he helped Sam heft the large contraption onto the back of their large truck bed. Dean threw a sheet of tarp over it and secured it onto the truck. Sam packed up the essential tools and materials he thought he'd need in the Northern town.

After a hefty breakfast, that consisted of Ellen's famous roast. The brothers returned back to the garage. Dean helped Sam into the truck, making sure his baby brother had everything he needed for the long drive.

He hated not being able to go with Sam this time, but work called, that god damn Lincoln was on rush order, his boss, Bobby, had asked him to get everything done as soon as possible, and that meant that he had to go to work in an hour. But he was kind of jealous that Sam would get to pass the castle, because that castle was there, regardless of what those stupid maps said. He just wanted to get another glimpse at those flowers, and those blue eyes...

"You gonna be okay by yourself?" Sam asked, breaking Dean out of his revere.

"Yeah, yeah, just…be careful alright?" Dean pressed the button to the doors of the garage, watching as they lifted up, showing the sun high in the open air.

"I'll keep my GPS on," Sam said with a smirk, revving the car. Dean did one last check on the invention in the back, making sure it was secure and tapped the truck's side. "I'll call you when I get there,"

Dean nodded, and watched as his brother made his way out of the bunker and on the open dirt road. Closing the bunkers garage doors with a clang, he reached for his and Sam's cups, praying Sam would get to the Northern town and that his invention was received with open arms.

He suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

 _Well uh-oh!  
_ _Where'd the pictures go? Was Dean really just making everything up?_

 _According to the original story, shit is about to go DOWN!_


	5. Chapter 5

Oleanders

 _oleander (ˌəʊlɪˈandə/)_  
 _noun._ _a poisonous evergreen Old World shrub grown in warm countries for its clusters of white, pink, or red flowers._

Sam was still worried about Dean as he drove down the long, winding dirt path to the Northern towns. The rain had started to fall, starting off with a pitter-patter before the skies seemed to open up and the rain grew torrential. The windscreen wipers swished back and forth along the windscreen as Sam made his way through the road.

He had left his brother alone with what sounded like a crazy notion in his head. He just hoped Dean didn't follow through with it. Sure, he believed Dean had indeed spent the most of last night walking up the path he was currently driving down. He also believed Dean was dumb enough to climb the wall, into what was obviously private property – even if it was abandoned. And he really did believe there was something on the other side of the wall.

But a castle? Gardens? A white skinned man and a starry feather?

Dean must have watched a sci-fi show late into the night, something that must have given him crazy dreams that seemed realistic. After all, that kind of thing just didn't happen in real life.

Sam sighed, thrumming his fingers on the leather of the steering wheel. It would be nice though, he always wanted to go on an adventure, to see new things and find out how they work. That was the reason why he became an inventor.

He hated making his brother work all hours of the day, he knew Dean was a lot smarter than he seemed. So what if he didn't go to college, he was able to help Sam build all of the machinery and inventions he had built.

If it wasn't for Dean, Sam wouldn't be where he was now. Sam's brother was a genius. That was that.

The rain continued to fall as Sam made his way along the road, he sucked in a breath as he got closer and closer to the "mysterious" spot behind the wall. The road was narrow and empty, Sam was surprised there was hardly any traffic here. This road was usually quite busy as a trade route.

Looking up he could see the corners of the wall through the heavy forestry. He didn't really understand why, but the mysterious place had a unique sense of surreal to it, that brought his morbid curiosity out.

What if Dean was right?

He gazed out of the window, following the large wall that lead into the 'mysterious place', now that he got a good look at it, he noticed it was a large plot of land. At the final turn, leading away from the mysterious place. Sam really needed to find another name for it.

He swerved the car back onto the road, noticing he had gotten off the track and closer to the wall. He gasped as the car cracked against an undergrowth rock and reeled back across the road with an ominous scraping somewhere beneath, but then gathered itself together valiantly and resumed its dogged climb back onto the road. The tree branches slapped wetly against the windshield, but his car fell to a sputtering stop.

"What the hell?" Sam shuddered to a slow stop. His car made a weird 'kree' sound before it completely stopped at the side of the road. He slammed his fist on the dash and let out a groan.

Of course this had to happen.

The rain fell heavier now as he tried starting the car again, and again, and again. But nothing happened. The car made a coughing noise before dying. Getting out of the car, he shielded himself from the stormy weather and slammed the door closed behind him. Lifting the bonnet, he took a look at the engine.

Nothing seemed to be out of place. Everything looked perfectly fine, at least to Sam it did. He suddenly really wished he had Dean with him. Maybe he could call him, send a picture or something, and find out why his perfect running car had suddenly stopped outside of the wall.

He pulled out his phone and saw it had no signal. Fucking great.

Well, at least he had the internet. Twiddling with the small antenna he had upgraded his phone with, he held it up in the air. Nope, still no signal. He walked a few steps forward, waving his phone too and fro, but nope. Still nothing. His phone was just getting wet.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he looked around, wiping his dampening hair back. Maybe there was something around here that could help him. The wall was just a few feet behind him, with a row of tended oleanders blooming in pink and white, vines and other wilder flowers sprouting around them.

That was weird. Oleander's were notoriously poisonous, other flowers couldn't grow around them. But there were roses, and blossoms and other thorny and beautiful flowers blooming from the wall, crawling up with the vines.

Was this place guarded against trespassers? If that was the case, how had Dean managed to climb these walls without getting stung with the poison? Were these flowers created to look menacing?

He dejectedly turned his gaze back to the skies. Contemplating on flowers wasn't helping him with his predicament. He needed to find out how to get out of this miserable mess. But that was when he heard it, a loud howl reverberated in the air.

Really? First the rain, then the car stopping and now wolves? This was not a normal behaviour for wolves. But Sam didn't want to think beyond that, because that howl was followed by another, and then another. And it was getting closer and closer.

Clutching his car keys, he contemplated what he should do.

Going back to the car would be the best bet, except…no, he'd be a sitting duck for when the wolves got here. And the rain didn't look like it was letting up. He'd only get colder if he sat in the cold steel, and he only had a few snacks in his car. They would only last a few hours.

If he walked up to the rest stop a few miles down the road, the rain would only slow him down and the wolves would find him, and eat him. And it was the same with the forest, if he went in there, then he'd be going directly into the wolves line of sight.

"Every horror movie starts off like this," he murmured, looking down to his phone once again. He leaned back against the stone wall, careful of the oleanders as the rain washed away the scents of the flowers.

Wait…maybe?

He looked up to the wall, his head dangerously close to the sweet smelling oleanders. Maybe, if he was careful, he could also climb up the wall and be safe on the other side.

The terrain around the wall was furrowed, rocky and slippery, as Sam looked for a foothold, contemplating whether or not this was a good idea. But the howling was getting closer.

The rocks dug into his skin, and the rain made it difficult for his boots to gain proper purchase. He was reluctant to climb any more, but he noticed the poisonous flowers weren't hurting him. He didn't feel a sting or any ache. So he kept climbing.

It was better than being eaten by ravenous wolves.

At last, with one final effort, he cleared the tangle of flowers and vines and came to the top of the wall. The rain still fell, and he was completely soaked and shivering. But now he had safety from the wolves, and he could hide out in one of the ruins, at least until the rain let up.

His invention was safe, under the tarp, protected. So he had no worry about that.

He looked up to the large area behind the wall. There was a large gate. It was tall, ominous and heavy, set strongly into a stone wall that went off through the trees. Even through the rain, Sam could see the beautiful and menacing angel carved at the very top and a chain that was twisted around and through the iron bars. But beyond that he could only see the road continue, and turn in.

Damn, Dean was right.

Sam shivered, gazing at the large, beautiful castle standing behind the gates. He didn't know what it was, but looking up at the castle, he knew it was a place of wonder and safety. The house seemed alive as it stood beautifully in the middle of the forest.

No wonder Dean was so obsessed with this place.

The sound of howling came from behind, and looking down he could see shapes dancing along the skirts of the forestry from beyond the road. One shape leaped out from the trees and crashed heavily into Sam's car, bending the side door before falling onto the ground in a heap.

"Niis!"

At the sudden sound of someone yelling, Sam's body jerked, losing his footing and falling to the other side of the wall.

He hit the ground with a loud, wet smack, mud spraying up. He groaned, turning to his back to stop the sudden pain on his arm and leg, he most definitely had broken something. He peered up into the skies to see someone blocking his view.

Beauty…sunlight…and…candy?

"Are you alright?"

But the pain in his body came to him with the force of a sledgehammer and Sam felt himself fall into a deep sleep. His last thought was of whiskey gold eyes and the scent of candy.

* * *

 _Oooh, we're getting somewhere now._

 _Who did Sam see? (yes, I know its obvious, but humour me a little)_

 _Translation_  
 _Niis - Go_


	6. Chapter 6

Gold Tea

This stupid ass car was going to be the death of him.

Dean was so sure of it, as he leaned deeper into the engine of the crappy Lincoln Continental. His hands were covered up to his elbows in the thick, greasy engine oil as he fixed her up. She wasn't a _bad_ car. She was pretty well kept, still new and shiny. He had to commemorate blondie, he knew how to look after a car. Dean would make sure she purred before she drove out of his garage. But she had nothing on his Baby.

He only had an hour before that short blondie came for it, and he was almost done with it. Just a bit more, and then a quick clean up and she'd be ready for her owner. And out of Dean's life.

"Dean!"

Dean peered up, wiping his hands on the rag draped over the bonnet, and threw it back onto the car. He pushed the doors leading to the main office and saw an old man in a trilby hat going through paperwork.

"What's up Bobby?" Dean asked.

Bobby Singer looked up from his papers and frowned. "The Lincoln owner won't be making it today, yer' gonna have to drop 'er off tonight."

"Why?" Dean held back a growl. He knew this crappy car was just going to cause more tension for him.

"Somethin' came up," He answered, writing something on a yellow post-it, he looked at the address one more time, muttering under his breath. "Funny, didn't know there was a house there,"

Dean nodded and took the post-it note Bobby held out. Folding it into his overalls, he thought to get some lunch before towing the car to blondies house.

"Going to Ellen's," He said to Bobby as he pulled the office door open and made his way out into the cobblestones of the town. Pushing the door closed behind him, he shrugged on his leather jacket, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature.

Making his way to Ellen's, he walked in to the roadhouse, greeted by the usual rowdy lunch crew. Nodding to Jo behind the bar, he took a spot at one of the booths. She already knew his order, so he didn't bother telling her. She turned to Ellen, who then voiced to Benny, the chef of the roadhouse, and he got to work. Benny was great, he cooked a mean burger and made sure Sammy had extra fries whenever they both had the time to be here together.

While he waited, his thoughts returned to the night before. He was so sure that he had seen the house behind the wall. And he was definitely sure that he had seen that man with the cat ears, and those amazing blue eyes. Those eyes had haunted Dean in his dreams. It was like they were watching him, except, he didn't feel uncomfortable, or scared. He felt _safe, protected._ His body tingled at the thought of that man and those eyes.

Whatever was happening, it was freaking him out.

He reached for his phone, wanting to distract himself. It had been a few hours since he had seen off Sam that morning, his oaf of a brother should be at the Northern towns by now. But he had no new messages.

Hmm…

He texted Sam, asking if he got to the town okay, and if he needed any help, and waited for a reply. None came.

Now he was getting worried. Sam was a big boy, but what if he got stuck? What if his car stopped working? There were wolves in the forest.

Nah, he had probably gotten to the town okay and was most likely taking a long, girly shower, enjoying the hotel, and fretting over his experiment. His invention was there to help the masses. He needed to make sure everything worked perfectly. Dean would try his brother again later.

"Hey Dean," The pretty brunette, Lisa, settled herself in the seats in front of him, and Dean suddenly wished he had told Jo to make his order to go. "You here by yourself?"

Dean felt that small part of him scream at him, telling him that this was not right. Do not flirt with her, she was not what he wanted. It wasn't that she wasn't beautiful, because, god, she definitely was. But she did _nothing_ for him. Her very presence was making him feel uncomfortable. _Him!_ Dean, the Flirt, Winchester. He usually hit on anyone and everyone, he knew what he was like. He knew his reputation back home. He was always flirting with any interested party, having one night stands almost every other night. But that was all before they moved here.

It was as if his entire life had been set for this town. He felt like he had a higher purpose here, like someone was waiting for him, and he didn't want to disappoint them by playing around with anything in a skirt.

Lisa, though hot, just…wasn't it. And he wasn't going to waste his time with her when his heart was screaming at him that there was someone bigger and better than this woman. Gorgeous or not, she was not the one for him.

God, he was sappy.

Benny thankfully appeared like an angel and placed his burger in front of him, along with fries and a cold drink. Expecting Lisa to get up and go, he tucked in to his food, picking up the burger and revelling in the familiar taste. God, Benny was a genius chef.

Lisa leaned closer to him, across the table. She snagged a chip from his plate, which annoyed him. "Dean, do you think you might be gay?"

He choked on his burger. "What?"

"Well," Lisa continued, chewing on the end of her chip. "You haven't come on to me,"

Dean rolled his eyes, if his heart telling him no was one thing, Lisa's overbearing conceitedness was another thing that kept him away from her.

He was kind of offended. He had nothing against gays, his brother was bisexual – well, after walking in on his baby brother making out with a bartender had cemented that to him. But Dean was all about the women.

Wasn't he?

"Sure Lisa," Dean grumbled, taking large bites out of his delicious burger. "I gotta be gay if I don't wanna fuck _you,_ "

It was crude, but at least it'd get her off his back for a while. And maybe, if she believed he was gay, she'd stop actively pursuing him. She was gorgeous, with those long legs, big rack and long hair, they would have definitely been dating if it weren't for his mind saying 'no' in massive neon letters.

He rubbed at his heart, feeling the uncomfortable feeling again as he thought about her and dating, it usually happened when he thought about anyone in a romantic sense. Whatever it was, Dean really needed to get this feeling under check, otherwise he'd never get laid again.

Lisa wrinkled her little nose and stood up. "Too bad, I'd have made it worth your while,"

Sure she would have. Her ass was just as amazing. But nope, his heart burned and angry red at the thought of him and Lisa.

 _Fucking hell._ He was never gonna get laid again.

He continued eating his burger until a redhead sat opposite him. She reached for his chips and stuffed them in her mouth.

"Get your own, Charlie," Dean grumbled between bites.

Charlie smirked, snagging one more chip. "Please, like you're gonna finish all of them,"

They soon fell into a comfortable conversation about their morning, about how proud Dean was of Sam and his invention that was going to change the world. Finishing his burger in the companionable conversation, and seeing Benny and Jo joining in here and there, he thanked Ellen, hearing her yell her reply back to him from the kitchen area.

"You better be back here for dinner," She said pushing the kitchen doors open, drying her hands on a rag. "You boys need a home cooked meal,"

"It'll just be me tonight," Dean said with a smirk. "Sammy's out saving the world,"

Ellen shook her head. "I worry about you boys, out there saving people,"

Dean smirked, she was making them sound like superheroes. Sam fit that to a tee, he was literally doing something that was for the good of the town. If his machine worked, and he got his grant, he could actually help the tundra that was the Northern town. He'd be able to make the town prosper and help them get back to their greatness.

He just fixed cars.

"Don't give me that face, Dean." Ellen threatened, seeing exactly where his mind has gone to. "Now get back to work, and give this to Bobby,"

Ellen rushed back into the kitchen and came back out a few moments later with a box of food in her arms. Dean nodded and pushed his plate closer to the centre of the table. He wiped his mouth, taking one long swig of his drink. He took the box Ellen offered and made his way out of the roadhouse and back to Bobby's garage.

He pushed the door to the garage open and made his way to the office, checking his phone one more time, he noticed that Sam still hadn't replied to him. He gave him a quick call, hoping Sam would pick up.

When the phone cut off dial tone, Dean let out a sigh. Sam was alright. "Hey, you get to town alright?"

There was a sound of material brushing against material, followed by someone talking in a low voice. Dean couldn't hear what they were saying, but they didn't sound like Sam. Maybe he was in a restaurant and his fat ass had picked up the phone?

Good god. There was no hope for his brother.

"Hey Bobby, I gotta clock off early," He said, placing the box of food onto the table. Bobby looked up and took the food, opening it up and taking a whiff of the delicious scent. "Sam ain't replied, and I'm getting kinda worried."

Bobby nodded, throwing a set of car keys into Dean's hand. "Drop the Lincoln off and go find Sam,"

"Thanks Bobby," He came out of the office and over to the tow truck, getting in, he revved the engine and backed the large truck to the Lincoln. Throwing it in park, he got out of the truck and into the Lincoln. He drove the large car into the tow trucks back, driving it up into the base. He got out of the car and tied it to the tow, making sure it was safe and secure, before throwing tarp over it to keep it clean.

Reaching into his overalls pocket, he lifted the post it Bobby had given him before and read the address.

Seraph Manor. He'd never heard of that place before. Was that in town?

Wait…that was the coordinates for the mysterious place!

He _knew_ there was a house there! Who knew that the bane of his existence, this crappy Lincoln, was his ticket into finally getting into that place without the need for trespassing? Enthusiastic, he slid into the tow truck and shut the door, waving goodbye to Bobby, he drove out into the setting sun. He could drop the car to Seraph Manor – finally he knew the name of that place – explore a little, and then go find his brother in the Northern town.

The drive to Seraph Manor was pretty scenic, he turned left at the cross roads and made his way down the dirt path road. He could feel his heart beat a little faster at the thought of finally, finally getting inside.

Reaching the spot, his heart stopped.

In the brush, hidden against the pink flowers, was Sam's car. He stopped his car and quickly got out. He made his way through the foliage, tearing at the flowers that had vined their way around Sam's truck.

But Sam wasn't inside.

Fuck. Sam wasn't inside the truck. Stepping back, he noticed the invention was still wrapped safely in the tarp, and that it was still intact. But he also noticed the large indent on the side of the car, it was like something had slammed into it.

 _Fuck._ No, wait. There was no blood. No blood on the car, or on the ground. Sam wasn't hurt, Sam hadn't been in an accident.

But then _where was he?_

Looking up at the wall, seeing the flowers and the vines climbing all over it, he knew there was only one solution.

Sam was inside.

 _Where am I?_

Sam's entire body ached with a scalding heat and phantom pain. It was hot, too hot. He couldn't breathe. He needed to move, needed to get out of here. Where was he?

He tried to move his arms, but they wouldn't listen to his feeble attempts in his foggy mind. They felt heavy, as if weighted by something. His legs were in the same shape. But he noticed he wasn't tied down. He didn't feel any snags and ropes holding him in place. But there was something tightly wrapped around his right arm and leg.

He was in a bed. The material surrounding him was soft, heavy and riddled with sleepy scents. He sucked in the warm moist air, choking on it, as he willed his body to move. His head was throbbing, sweat beading on his skin.

How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was climbing the wall to get away from the pack of wolves. He'd fallen to the other side of the wall, and felt pain, white hot pain that electrified his entire body.

And then he heard that voice, he saw those eyes…golden eyes. And the sugary scent. That scent was here now, it was strong, like caramelised sugar and some kind of parchment paper. It was soothing, surprisingly. And that was when he heard it, a haunting melody that echoes through the dark fuzziness clouding his mind.

Someone was singing.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt that heated something move from over him. A duvet, it was a duvet. It slid over his head, across his face and stopped just by his shoulders. Peering through half lidded eyes, he saw a figure standing over him. It was the man, the one who he had seen before he fell unconscious.

He was small, Sam noticed, his blonde hair slicked back from his face. Wearing a maroon shirt and jeans, but it was what was on his back that surprised him. There were six bony husks that came out of his back, reaching up high into the tall ceilings, they had finger like bones and muscles webbing out to create an intricate pattern. It reminded Sam of the book he had once read on birds' wings, the bones and the structure was the same. Except the wings on this small man were slightly blackened, as if singed.

Why was he wearing something like that?

Those golden eyes were focused at his arm. His touch was light, feather soft and silky with heat as he slid those fingertips along the back of Sam's hand, all the way to his fingers and then back to his wrists, before returning.

Up and down, round and round, pressing lightly, barely touching. Sam sucked in a breath, forcing back a moan, at the feel of electricity spark through him, but to no avail. His moan was whisper soft, but those fingertips, that silky feeling, suddenly stopped, and when Sam looked again, the winged man was gone.

"W-wait! Don't go…" Sam got up, propping himself on his elbows. Leaning his weight on his right arm made him gasp in pain. Looking down, he saw his arm was wrapped in a cast, as well as his leg.

Looking around, he saw he was in a large bedroom, laying on a four poster bed. The room looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its gold and brown hues that welcomed softness, and the wood and marble furniture that just seemed too enriching, yet it matched the room perfectly. Even though the room looked fairy tale, Sam noticed the electric lights and plug sockets on the walls.

Amazing…

The door at the other end of the room suddenly propped itself open, and Sam saw the ends of a tea tray push its way in. Expecting to see his saviour, and thank him for saving him and bandaging him up, he watched as the tea tray made its way inside…

…without anyone to push it.

Sam's eyes widened as he saw the tea tray amble its way over the wooden floors and stopped by itself in front of Sam. Was it motorised? It didn't sound like it had a motor in it, and Sam couldn't see one either.

Fascinating.

Curiosity peaked, he watched as the teapot suddenly heated itself up, steam coming out from the spout. It then lifted itself up and poured its contents into the small tea cup sitting on a saucer in front of it. A spoon lifted itself and stopped in front of the sugar. Sam watched, fascinated to know how everything was working. There were no wires, or mechanics to hold it in place.

The spoon tapped a few times on the edge of the sugar pot, as if asking Sam for how much sugar he wanted.

"T-two," Sam stuttered, entranced with the show. "Please,"

The spoon, as if hearing his plea, dug into the sugar and scooped two teaspoons into the steaming cup. It stirred itself in the cup before tapping twice against the rim and settling down on the saucer.

"Thank you," he said to the tea utensils as the trolley edged its way closer to the bed.

Great, now he was talking to cutlery.

Sam suddenly found he was really thirsty, so he waited for the tray to move again. When it didn't, he reached for the cup, and hesitated. What if it was poisoned? Or spiked with some kind of drug? Was that man just being kind, or did he want Sam for something?

He suddenly felt someone watching him. Looking up to the still ajar door, he noticed the shadows of the small man standing in the entry way, just behind the door, watching him.

"It's not poisoned," the man's voice was thick, and slightly musical.

Sam wanted to believe him, after all the man helped lug his unconscious body up to this room, which was definitely on a higher floor, he noticed looking out of the large bay windows. And then he had taken care of him, brought him back to health. Why would he do that just to kill him?

With that conclusion, he took a sip of the steaming hot tea. It was slightly sweet but rich and almost flowery. Delicious.

The figure still watched on from behind the door, his shadow was the only way Sam knew that he was there, it cast along the ground, along with his creepy wings. They looked monstrous in the shadow, but Sam had already seen them for what they really were. And he was not scared.

How could a man who went through all of this for him, be scary?

Sam tried to move, wanting to put the teacup back on the saucer and get out of the bed, he didn't know how long he had been there. He needed to call Dean. He needed to tell him what happened, where he was.

Where was he?

Peering out from the large window at the other side of the room, he noted the large wall with the wild flowers and oleanders lining it.

He was inside the mysterious place! Dean was _right!_

He wanted desperately to get up and explore, this would probably be his only chance to do so. Maybe he could call Dean and get him here as well? In his glee, he pulled the duvet from his body and moved to get up, but in doing so, his bandaged leg snagged in the folds.

He let out a yelp.

The mysterious golden saviour reached out to the door, his shadow casting deeper into the room as he peered through the door. Sam could barely see him, but he noticed the top of his blonde head.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice carrying through the room.

Sam nodded, looking up to the hidden shadowed man. He settled back onto the bed, knowing now that he wasn't going to go anywhere until his leg healed. He needed to get his phone and call Dean.

"Can I get my…" He looked up, but the shadow was gone.

Shit, now what was he going to do?

* * *

 _This is going to get long..._  
 _Check out chapter specific images and gifs, as well as updates on my tumblr which has images to go with the fic._


	7. Chapter 7

Rainstorm

 _Sometimes first meetings can be intense._

The rain pelted outside and lightening fissured, streaking along the skies, it was hard to see anything passed the storm.

Sam peered around the room he was in, the tea tray had left and so did the man whose shadow Sam had become acquainted with. He had to find out more about the man, more about this house.

He pulled off the thick and soft duvet from him and let the cool air wash over his warm body. With a shiver, he slowly got up out of bed, testing the cast, he found he was able to lean on it for a moment before it started to ache. He wouldn't be able to walk, but he could at least hobble a bit with some kind of support.

Eyeing a metal poker by the fire place at the other end of the room, Sam struggled to get to the fire place, holding onto the posters of the bed and sliding his leg along the ground. He heard the tell-tale sound of cutlery clinking together and a few moments later the tea tray appeared next to him, it nudged at his thighs and Sam wobbled onto it, using it for support. With whimpers and grimacing at the subdued ache and pain in his leg, he finally made it to the fireplace. Thanking the tea tray, he took the metal poker in his hand, and tested it. It didn't bend or creak, and it seemed to be thicker than most pokers, larger in the handle area, as if someone with a bigger hand used it.

With a makeshift crutch, he was finally able to roam about the house.

Sam hobbled out of the bedroom and into a large hallway, on his direct left was a tall mosaic like stain glass window with an image of an angel's wings on it. He turned back to the door he had just entered from. The bedroom door was a set of two great double doors deeply carved with intricate designs of angels. The hall he stood in was full of dark wood and weighty carvings.

The entire house seemed to have the perception of a gothic style, what with all the angels carved everywhere. The floor he was on was set in a long, straight hall, to accommodate the doors to the bedrooms. Each of the doors he passed were closed. At the left end of the hallway was a small set of staircases, probably leading to the servants' rooms on the floors above, and to the service rooms below.

Following the hallways down, he saw a large staircase that lay back in the far end. It pooled down to the floors below. Sam could see there was a wide landing and then the staircase well.

Wait…

He blinked a few times. He could have sworn he saw someone standing by the main doors leading to what looked like a large ballroom on the balcony of the staircase. And it wasn't the man who had looked after him.

He made his way to the balcony, his feet making an obscenely loud tap-click with every footstep. The top floor was completely empty, that was no surprise. A quick look at the large grandfather clock on the ground floor told him that it was just about midnight.

His bare feet thudded against the wooden floor as he walked over to the large staircase, his long fingers wrapped around the banister as he made his way to the bottom floor.

Tap-click, tap-click, tap-click. His makeshift crutch held on strong.

Empty.

His stomach chose them to rumble.

He made his way passed the large closed doors leading to what must have been a ballroom, and into the kitchen area. The kitchen was just as big as everything else in the house. And decorated much the same. There was a large island bar in the middle, and everything was tiled beautifully. He paused when he saw an ornate silver plate dome, with a post-it note on it.

Sam peeled it off. "Dinner is in the dining room."

Sam made his way back to the dining room he had passed and pushed the heavy door open. A dark wood table was spread down the length of the room, the door being at its half point. A large fire place loomed behind the head of the table, and it was blazing hungrily. Large windows lined the walls far above, letting in light by which to see. Other than that, the room was relatively unadorned.

Sam saw a chair by the head of the table and made his way towards the chair on the right, unsure of whether to sit, or to remain standing. Gingerly, he sat down on the hard, black lacquered chair, awaiting his host.

He folded his hands neatly in his lap, staring down at them, his heart pounding in anticipation. The very air around him suddenly changed. Curious, he re-opened his eyes and found himself completely unable to move.

Fear gripped him as he stared at the pale beast standing at the head entrance of the dining room. He stood tall, but he was still shorter than Sam's six foot four, and he looked like a mix of a wolf and a bear, with ram like horns that curled in his hair. His dark hair was shaggy and fell in a curled mass around his face. He had two large cat-like ears and whiskers. He looked unusual, but in no way ugly or scary.

This was the man Dean was talking about.

He was real!

The beasts' deep blue eyes bore into Sam's hazel green ones. Sam felt trapped, imprisoned in the intenseness of his hosts gaze. The beast of a man smiled, the corner of his lips turning up to show fangs. Sam cleared his throat, making himself known and boosting up his withered confidence.

"I apologise for intruding in your lovely home," He said, bowing his head down, trying not to be daunting. This was the host, he looked frightening, but if Sam were to act as anything but courteous he'd be forced out of there with a broken leg and arm.

The beasts' voice was a low growl when he spoke, and it made Sam shiver. "So, you are the one Gabriel has been talking about,"

Gabriel. Was that the name of the man who had cared for him?

"My name is Castiel, I will be your host, Gabriel will attend to you tonight," The beast man said, settling down at the head of the table. He draped his long, bushy tail behind him. The cutlery started moving of its own accord as he did so, plates, glasses, knives and forks setting themselves in front of the two.

A few moments later, the door leading from the kitchen area budged open and tray after tray of foods arrived, dancing along the air, sliding across the table and settling themselves in front of Sam.

Sam watched, enthralled, as all sorts of different foods spun and settled before him. He didn't know what else to do, everything seemed like a fantasy. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he had thought and all of this was some weird dream.

Castiel held a childlike wonder in his eyes as he watched Sam. "What brings you here?"

Not wanting to be a bad guest, Sam suddenly found himself telling Castiel about himself, about his inventions, the reason he had stopped in front of the house, about his brother. He was calmed when Castiel told him that Gabriel would bring his car, and his invention, to the garage.

Sam found that Castiel really did seem intrigued as to how his inventions worked. But then again Castiel seemed raptured with everything Sam was saying about his life.

Maybe he never had the chance to see the real world. It must have been hard for him. Sam suddenly felt less frightened and more saddened for this otherworldly beast.

It was freezing and Dean was soaked as he trudged through the cobblestone and mud in the large garden entrance. His boots squelched as the rain water fell, shrouding him in the blustery wings. He looked up to the large house in front of him, the flowers and the trees were bending against the wind.

The entrance of the house came around him in a rush, the sound of his feet on the wood of the veranda was an outrage in the utter silence, even with the rain. It was as though it had been a very long time since anyone walked across the boards of the house.

Dean brought his hands up to the heavy iron knocker, but the door opened without warning.

"Spooky," He muttered to himself as he stepped inside.

The house was huge. He walked deeper into the foyer. The main floor led to a grand staircase. Taking a look back to the darkness of the rain outside, he shivered. Daring back into the large house, he heard the muffled sound of his brothers' voice coming from deep inside.

He didn't seem to be hurt, or in pain, so Dean made his way slowly, instead of guns blazing, like he wanted to.

"Who are you?"

Turning, Dean saw the golden winged Gabriel standing at the foot of the staircase, holding his hand to his hips. He stopped, taking a long look at the man, he was a small man, but he still looked powerful and intimidating. And those wings, or what was left of them.

"Where is the owner?" He asked, closing the door behind him to show he was not intending to go anywhere until he got what he wanted. "I know you're not him, where is he? Where's the beautiful one?"

Gabriel paused. "Beautiful?"

Dean's eyes widened. Had he really said that?

That was when Castiel made his appearance into the foyer. And Dean couldn't help but smile. He hadn't really meant to say 'beautiful', but now seeing this fair skinned cat like man standing before him, with his horns and whiskers. He truly did look more beautiful than he did beastly.

Castiel returned the smile and stepped a little closer, invading his space, which was when Dean discovered several things. One, he realised his body wasn't listening to his head that was telling him that he did not know this beast, but his heart seemed to recognise this man, intimately. And two, and even more unsettling, he smelled good—like really good.

"And who might you be?" Castiel asked.

Closing his eyes, Dean felt his body actually tingle, brought to a hyper-awareness that felt almost foreign as something zinged through him. Desire. Bone-melting desire. When he opened his eyes again, Castiel was even closer. The beast's eyes weren't the solid warm blue Dean had thought, but it had flecks of silver dancing in them, as well. Like starlight. Dean could have drowned in all that deliciousness.

Not a bad way to go, he figured—death by lust.

"You're the brother. You are Dean," he said, and Dean felt his mind go fuzzy.

Just that, just his name in a deep voice that was full of promises Dean knew this man intended to keep. And suddenly, the part of his brain that had dictated the 'right-person' for him quietened. There were no feelings of disgust, nothing that indicated that this was wrong.

Everything was right.

So instead of taking a step back, he took one forward and met the beast halfway on wobbly legs. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he reached forward, tentatively, and ran his hand up the beast's large shoulder, up over his throat, going slowly, achingly slowly, so that by the time he had cupped the man's jaw, Castiel was quivering. Lifting his other hand, he slid a curl from the beast's temple, tucking it behind his ear.

With his pulse somewhere at stroke level, Castiel closed his eyes to better absorb the touch. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Dean's fingers were warm and callused. Strong, protective.

Castiel's heart and body suddenly aligned. He wanted this man, this mere human. He wanted Dean, bad. Maybe he was the man that would break the spell?

Gabriel cleared his throat behind them, bringing the two back to reality.

"Huh?"

There was amusement in Gabriel's voice. "You still with us?"

Dean had stepped back, but Castiel still felt him, pressed up against him, deliciously warm and hard. Everywhere.

He needed a clear head. "Yes," he said, but it came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat and said it again. "Yes, I'm still here."

Dean studied his face, then gave him a very small smile. With a quick, single shake of his head, he took a giant step back, his eyes shuttered from the beast. "Where is my brother?"


	8. Chapter 8

Portrait

Castiel crossed the large hall and opened a bedroom door. "This will be your room,"

"Oh…thanks," Dean said hesitantly, standing in the doorway and peering in to the humongous room. The room was in somewhat of a disarray, deep reds and blacks almost clashing with the limited amount of furniture inside. There was a huge four poster bed in the very middle of the room, although the covers were folded and placed neatly upon the bed, it seemed disordered, as if done in the quickest way possible.

A side table and other dark wood furniture were strewn in a fashionable manor around the room each with intricate angelic carvings. The entire corner wall was taken up by windows that stood up high, opposing the bed and turning the corner to lavishly stop at the very end of the large room, showing the west side of the exquisite gardens and the forestry in the distance.

Castiel turned aside to let Dean come in.

"Breakfast will be at eight sharp, we will dine together," he said, standing at the frame of the door. "Your brother is in the room next door, however he is being taken care of by Gabriel. I bid you to let him do his job,"

Dean nodded, standing uncertainly a few feet into the room. He wanted to ask more questions, wonder what it was that Gabriel was doing to Sam. He had whisked Sam away so quickly after they had finally met, that Dean barely had the chance to ask Sam how he was. He wanted answers. Why was this beautiful beast keeping them here? How badly hurt was Sam? Did he need to go to a hospital? He had been wearing a cast on his leg and his arm, but he had been walking around the house like it didn't pain him. Had the two hosts of the house drugged him?

Dean thought he was owed answers. But the look in those deep starry blue eyes made Dean's thoughts falter and his breath catch in his throat.

"I will explain everything at breakfast. There are clothes in the cupboards for you, please rest for now." Castiel said, his voice low and his eyes shining bright with childlike mirth. The door closed with a sound thud behind Dean as Castiel left him to his own devices.

What had he gotten himself in to?

Taking slow, paced steps, he dragged his tired feet to the bed and sat on the corner. An astonished smile rose to his lips as he took another long gaze into the room.

He was finally here.

There was a doorway at the opposing wall that led to a balcony that over took the corner of the room, overlooking the beauty of the gardens. He took a hold of the cool polished handle and winced at the creak it made as he opened the door. A cold breeze brushed passed him as the setting storm brew, lightening streaked across the dark skies and rain fell harder now. A white ivory table and chairs were set to one side of the balcony, while long winding plants took over the other side leading up and weaving around the corner to the rest of the balcony. Thick concrete pillars ran along the balcony edge, slabs of concrete above for him to lean on.

Dean peered into the distance and saw a waist high hedge maze leading to an architecturally artistic building a few meters away. It looked like a Romanic construction, white pillars stood tall, protecting and preserving whatever was inside. How he wanted to go out there and see what that beautiful building held. But the storm wouldn't allow him to explore passed the building itself.

Returning to the room, he took in a deep breath and explored the rest of his new abode. There was a large dressing table before him on the wall of the entrance door, a large painting hung high on the wall, covered by a sheet.

Dean took a seat on the pouf chair and leaned against its wooden back. He sighed. The mirror image staring back showed his dark blonde hair in stylish disarray, his candy green eyes, the darkness of his eyes from countless restless nights made them stand out all the more, his pale red lips curved down into a sigh.

Beauty of the town, eh?

His attention instead turned to the portrait hanging on the wall above him. Looking up at the dusty covers and tried to peer in through the gaps. While walking down the hallways to his room, he noticed that all the other paintings and portraits of former residents and places were displayed, some even with their own candelabra styled lights below.

Why was this one hidden?

He smirked and stood up on the chair, taking a hold of the cream coloured sheet. It was a portrait, but it was painted in dark colours. He could see what looked like a hand held into a waistcoat or blazer, but the sheet seemed to fix against the frame of the painting.

Curious to see who was in the painting, he took one corner of the sheet and yanked at it. Dust fell from the sheet after being moved from what seemed like years, making him wrinkle his nose and bite back a bout of coughs, but yet he still pulled at the cream material. A faint rip near the top of the material caused Dean to stumble back, legs tangling in the pouf chair and falling to the ground.

He moaned low in his throat, and then slowly blinked his eyes open. Looking up at the portrait, he gasped. The material had ripped, showing a set of eyes. Dean stared at the sight of those eyes. They were so blue they looked like a swirling stormy sea, and they focused on Dean. Those dark, captivating eyes searched his suspiciously.

Get real Dean, it's a painting.

But looking up at the painting, into those beautiful blue eyes made him feel hot and tingly. Breathless. He wanted to rip the rest of the sheet from the painting, wanting to see the rest of the man's eyes, see his face, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. His body was weak from the cold, and soaked from the rain. He pulled open the cupboard and saw an entire wardrobe of clothes neatly folded on the shelves. Leaning in, he picked a random shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms. The tags were still on them, he noticed.

Peeling off his clothing, he quickly changed into the new outfit. Reaching back into the wardrobe for a towel, he dried his hair, feeling too lethargic to take a shower.

The bedroom door suddenly shut behind him, making him jump.

Had someone been watching him?

Sam took in his surroundings as he walked through the dimly lit hallway. His heart hammering in his chest at the dark walls of the house surrounding him.

A house…it felt more like a tomb. The black and grey walls were decorated in wooden panels. A few candelabra's hung on either side of the hallway, lighting up small spaces and leading once again to darkness. The darkness only made the wide hallways that much more extensive and cold. It was hollow, untouched almost. It had the sense of foreboding to anyone who walked down the labyrinth of corridors. No one had been living here for a long while.

Sam sighed as he passed another turn leading to another long winding hallway that looked exactly like the one he was currently walking along. Gabriel really had his work cut out for him. There wasn't a stray cobweb or a speck of dust anywhere along the hallway. It didn't seem like too long to lose himself in his thoughts and take a turn through a corridor. He could feel Gabriel's golden eyes watching his every move with fervour and curiosity. He seemed to sway silently in the dim darkness and almost hide among the shadows as he showed Sam the way back to his quarters.

Sam tried to keep up with the twists and turns, but he found himself in a fit of desperation. He was completely lost.

He took in a deep breath, noticing Gabriel slowing to accommodate his injured leg. Concentrating in the space around him, he tried to get a scope of the area. Where was the entrance? How long would it take to get from his room to the front door? What pace did Gabriel take when he walked? Was Castiel around here somewhere? Maybe they had passed Dean's room.

Sighing, Sam gazed around the corridor once again. He saw a faint light coming from a slightly ajar door a few metres away.

"What is that?" He asked, leaning back on the poker and wanting to see what that was. Maybe if he could find a room that would be familiar, he's be able to work his way out of the house, if he needed to.

Gabriel paused and looked back. He took hold of Sam's arm and led him to the solace of light. Quickening his steps, he pushed the door open, and ushered Sam inside.

It was a library.

Books covered the shelved walls, rising high into the sky. There was a long table to Sam's left, and an immense fireplace with sofa's lined in a square around it to his right. There was a balcony that ran halfway up along the wall. Much like the rest of the house, the walls to the floor above him was taken over by windows rising up to the sky.

Whoever lived here liked the sun. Either that or missed the warmth it gave. Maybe this place was like a prison.

Such a magnificent library.

Sam walked into the fire lit room and took in a deep breath of the pine and paper. He wasn't a lover of literature, unless it was educational – that was more Dean's secret hobby – but he was curious. He ran his fingers over the slight-dust covered books and sighed. This place must be reclusive for Gabriel not to come in here and dust.

What this library could be hiding in its shelves…

Gabriel moved over to the bookshelf by the fireplace and picked at a large black book sitting slanted on the shelf.

"Castiel enjoys books," Gabriel said, blowing against the thin cover. A thin sheen of dust blew off and settled in the air around him. "I try to give him what he needs."

He handed the book to Sam. The taller man took it in his free hand, inspecting it. The book had no name on it, just a thick black cover.

"I recommend it,"

Sam settled himself on a comfortable looking sofa, facing the firelight and pulled the book open.

"It this the bible?" He asked, reading through the first scrawled scriptures of the hand written passage of the book. It didn't seem like a bible, more like a diary. But everything was written in a text similar to the Old Testament. Historical literature was very interesting to Sam. But this seemed too personal.

"It is our history," Gabriel stated.

A sudden shifting of cloth against cloth echoed through the library, seeming quiet, as if not wanting to be heard. Wait… Sam looked up to the shadows of the library, holding his breath. And then turned to Gabriel.

"Does anyone else live here?" He asked.

Gabriel shook his head, smirking. "You are seated in Castiel's spot," he said in a sing-song voice. "He doesn't like it."

The hair on the nape of Sam's neck stood up, his eyes wide as he tried to concentrate on the space around him. If Castiel was not going to show himself, then Sam would have to learn to listen to the silence.

"I am sorry, Castiel," He said aloud, receiving no answer. "May I rest here for now?"

A swish of cloth…

Sam quickly turned around, fright and terror set on his beautiful features. If they wanted to attack him, they had all of the power now. There was nothing else here he could use, unless he paper-cut his attacker. He turned to Gabriel, seeing the smaller man skimming through a book.

Sam heard Castiel move behind him, the slight ruffle of cloth upon cloth once again. He quickly turned around, determination shining in his eyes. All he saw was the shadows the book shelves provided.

"I think we should leave," Sam suddenly said, placing the book down.

Gabriel just chuckled musically, which made Sam shiver warmly at the sound.

He heard the cloth yet again, this time the sound was closer that the one before. He blindly raised his arm in sheer determination to capture whoever it was. There was nowhere for him to run, not with his leg.

He caught the end of a soft fabric, the cloak. He pulled on it hearing a shocked cry. As if the wind itself, the person he thought he had a hold of disappeared into the dim darkness. There was a giggle right in front of him.

Castiel was playing with him?

Heart pounding wildly in his chest, Sam stood, holding the poker in his hand and leaning on his good leg. He really didn't understand what was happening any more. Why was the owner of the house, the beast of Seraph Manor, playing hide and seek with him?

He turned to the smaller man, who was still skimming through the book, leaning on one of the pillar shelves. The dim light created a sort of glow that resonated over his gorgeous face; sunshine blonde hair slicked back to show his beautiful eyes. His pretty lips cracked into a smile. His smile was wide, his deep whiskey brown eyes mesmerising, and Sam was caught, frozen in place. He could only watch as the man leaned closer to him.

Wow…

"Don't mind Cassie," He said, his voice filled with mirth. "We don't get out much,"

Sam could see that.


	9. Chapter 9

Curse

Damn this house is huge.

Dean walked through the corridor to what he hoped was the way to the staircase leading to the north wing. He didn't want to take the service stairs, lest he got even more lost than he felt right now.

The sun was rising in the distance to greet the morning. Its rays streaming through the mosaic stain glass windows creating large rectangles of colourful light against the wooden floors.

He had spent the night in Seraph Manor, sleeping on the most comfortable bed he had ever imagined – even more so than his magic fingers memory foam mattress at home. He swore he could hear things moving and tinkering around, but that couldn't be possible.

Unless the place was haunted.

He was eager to find his brother, who was supposed to be 'next door' to him, he didn't expect next door to mean next wing. Each wing was like a large home. He had opened doors to so many bathrooms and empty bedrooms.

There wasn't a soul in sight. No sign of the beast of the manor, or his squire. And he had no idea where his brother was, or what Castiel meant by Gabriel taking care of Sam.

How had he been so stupid to just leave his brother to the hands of a creepy cosplayer? But he had seen Sam last night, the cast on his leg and arm seemed surgical, very professional. He wasn't in any pain, as he smiled and had his food.

Dean had sat opposite him in the large dining room, watching him intently, wondering what was going on. But Sam looked content. He was a bit pale, but he was healing.

Dean had said his thanks to the golden winged – if one could call those bony brittle things wings – man. But they had surely overstayed their welcome. Dean was here now, he had his pickup truck, and that Lincoln, they'd scrape the weeds and vines from Sam's car and he would use the pickup truck to take his car back. They could go home now.

Dean didn't want to go home. His heart beat thudded heavily in his chest, his breathing coming out quicker at the thought of leaving. It was as if every single cell in his being was telling him to stay.

To stay in this manor, with the weird squire and the hauntingly beautiful beast.

His thoughts wandered to the host of the manor, and he found he really wanted to know more about the man, the beast. He wanted to know everything.

A tingling scent of something delicious filled his nostrils, making him take a deeper breath. Someone was baking.

Curiosity and hunger getting the better of him, he made his way down the narrow staircase leading lower and lower into the darkness. He could only suck in a breath against the dust that permeated the air here. No one had been here for ages, it seemed.

The steps themselves were wooden and rickety, so different from the rest of the house. He could tell by the tapping of his shoes against them. It smelled like a forest, and it looked like it too. He didn't dare place his hands on the wall to steady himself, in case there was a split or seam against the panels.

He didn't know where he was, he didn't want to suddenly cut himself open and bleed out with no help around him, and he definitely did not want to walk down these sets of stairs either. But he gathered his courage and places his feet as close to the edges as possible.

He reached the bottom step and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. The sunlight stretched along the hallway. His foot pressed against the loose floorboard, and the creaking sound of wood made him jump in fright.

He was not in a horror movie. He started humming low to himself, a rock song he remembered his mother singing to him when he was young. It relaxed him enough to follow the brightly lit path.

His humming had soon turned to words as he sang quietly, wanting his voice to drown out the sounds the house made just by standing. Maybe someone would hear him and tell him where to go.

The hallway he turned in was much like the hallways to the rest of the house, except it was a lot narrower and there were large baying four panel windows everywhere. The sun lit the corridor in a fantastical golden yellow.

Taking in a deep breath, Dean walked through the hallway, gazing out through the large windows.

It was amazing.

The sunlight swayed in the waters of the large lake like fountain. There was a statue of three women twirling around in the middle of the fountain, wearing clothing from different iconic constituents of history. One woman wore a long flowing Greek toga like dress that reached to her sandaled feet. Her back was arched gracefully, her arms out before her, as if dancing with a partner.

Another statue woman held a fan to her face, hiding everything but her eyes as she was in much the same state as the statue before, except her arms were held above her, calling to the heavens. She wore a medieval inspired gown; her bodice was tight against her waist and flowered out into a ball gown down to her feet.

The third woman stood with her palms together, in a sign of prayer, she looked more conservative than the other two statues, her dress reached to her ankles, but they seemed more like a cloaked robe.

Whoever had created that statue had made it to such realistic likeness, he mentally applauded the craftsmanship. He continued down the path until he reached a door, the only door in the entire hallway, and pushed it open.

This room was amazingly huge, and smelled oddly of wood, paper and a uniquely musky scent. Through the baying sunlight coming from the large windows up above in the rafters, Dean could see wooden panel walls filled with shelves of books, glass cases with ancient rifles, and musical instruments. There was a large desk that stood clean from the clutter, the light from the windows high above shining down on it. A leather chair loomed behind the desk.

Dean walked over to it, peering at a few of the books on the shelves as he did so. There were all sorts of books in all sorts of languages, many that boasted religion, war and peace.

He gazed into the glad cabinet, pressing his fingers against the cool glass, seeing an immaculate blade, it had a thick handle and a pointed blade. It shone in the sunlight, but it was locked away.

Dean walked over to the leather chair and sat on the comfort of the cushions, his gaze rested on a small wooden desk drawer above his thighs. There was a lock on it.

What could be hiding in here?

Curiosity really was going to get the better of him. He remembered his father having a desk like this at home, which he had always filled with small bottles of whiskey and a gun. He reached down and stretched his hand across the span of the desk until he reached the end of the drawer. He pushed against the metallic latch within the wood and smirked at the familiar click of metal against wood. The drawer sprung into his stomach, pushed by a spring he was unaware of.

Sucking in a harsh breath at the sudden thump to his gut, Dean pushed his chair back and watched with morbid wonder as he pulled open the drawer. It was vacant, except for a small black book sitting in the recluses of the wood.

He pulled it out and placed it on the desk. Peeling the leathery black cover from the paper, he smirked at the scroll of neat hand writing.

 _Castiel_

It was a diary.

He really shouldn't be reading this. It was private, but damn his curiosity. He turned the page and skimmed through a random paragraph, written in the same neat handwriting.

 _Gabriel has done everything he can to make me feel safe, and I do not need to worry of my condition here. I have everything I need. However I still do not feel like I belong._

 _When will this curse break?_

Dean stopped, placing his hand on the page, letting the smooth surface and the dried ink seep into the heat of his fingers. Everything was slowly starting to make sense.

 _A curse._


	10. Chapter 10

Hosts

A sudden rapping of knuckles against the door behind him broke Dean from his train of thought. He quickly took the journal and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. Shifting the back of his shirt to cover it, he turned to see a three pronged candlestick standing on the middle of the large arch doorway. Its candlewicks were quite low, as if it had just been burning.

Had someone left that for him?

"You must be Dean,"

Dean turned to the voice, hoping to see someone. But he didn't see anything accept the candlestick. Was someone watching him? Was there a camera in the room? Then he saw the candlestick jump over the threshold and into the room all on its own. Dean stumbled back onto the table, watching the inanimate object animate itself as it hopped closer to him.

"My name isAnna," the candlestick said, the clink, clink, clink sound of her metal base hitting the marble tiled ground. "Everyone is waiting in the dining hall,"

Holy fuck, it talked! Dean's eyes widened, but he nodded. He cleared his throat and straightened himself out, his fingers brushing the journal in his waistband. The small bulge made him somewhat relaxed. Like he was meant to have it. It was a strange feeling.

He followed the candlestick out of the room, following its clinking feet as it hopped through the long corridors and meandered the grounds, hopping up the steps with practiced ease. The rain poured a lot harder now, and the grounds looked almost flooded with water. But Dean followed, mesmerised by Anna. How did she work? Was she a robot? A machine? How was she moving? How was she sentient? He didn't think artificial intelligence could move so fast and so far.

He tried to memorise the hallways, but after the first few turns, he was completely lost once again. Anna was confident in where she was going, so taking her confidence, he followed, keeping up with her hopping strides. They soon reached the grand staircase and Dean let out a sigh of relief, recognising the area. The tapping of his feet on marble echoed through the large foyer. Still, Anna made her way over the reflective marble floors and into one of the rooms to the side.

It was a huge dining hall. Different to the one they had been in last night. This looked like one that was for prestigious guests. There was a table that stretched out from one end of the grand hall to the other. Exalted wooden chairs stood on both sides, their backs carved with roses and flowers of all sorts. The table was done up in the same way.

Magnificent.

Sam and Gabriel sat at one end of the dining table. Sam had his cast leg up on another chair, watching Gabriel pilling his plate up with the extraordinary amount of food that was presented before them.

"Dean-o," Gabriel said, placing Sam's plate down in front of him, "Come have some breakfast, made by yours truly,"

"It's really good," Sam said, a buttered slice of toast in his mouth. He motioned him over and Dean followed as Anna sat on the table before them, brightening up in the lit room.

Glad to finally have something proper to eat, Dean settled next to his brother and filled his plate. There was all sorts of breakfast food set up like a feast in front of them, pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, and it all looked so delicious.

"You doing alright?" He said, turning to his brother.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, it doesn't hurt as much any more, thanks to Gabriel,"

Dean nodded, unsure what to say. This was a weird situation they had both found themselves in. With Sam injured, and the weather looking like it was only getting worse, Dean wasn't sure when they were going to leave. Thankfully the beautiful beast like host had let them stay for the night, and Dean hoped he didn't have to trudge Sam through the mud and flood back to the pickup. He'd be ready to do it if he needed to, but...

His gaze darted up to the waterfall of rain showering down on the large windows and doors, a streak of lightening flashing across the skies, followed by a low rumble of thunder. He really didn't want to drive in that. The pick up truck was not built for this kind of terrain. They'd just get stuck out there, and with Sam unable to walk. He didn't want to think about that.

It was good to see Gabriel helping Sam out in his time of need. Dean was a little jealous, because he was always the one who took care of his baby brother. And Sam was hurt, he was in pain. But Dean saw how pale Sam looked as he took a forkful of eggs with shaky hands, only for Gabriel to rush straight in and help him.

He couldn't help but be glad that Gabriel was there.

The doors to the side of the dining room open, and Castiel walked in. He was wearing a blazer and a tie, his furry head spiky, as if he had been running his fingers through it. His pale face was bright, and his horns looked polished as they shone in the lamplight. It was odd to see him so dressed up when everyone else was still dressed in their pyjamas.

"I did not properly introduce myself last night," He said, his voice was low and grainy. Dean watched, entranced as he walked up to the table and settling down in the seat opposite him. "My name is Castiel, I welcome you to Seraph Manor."

Dean couldn't help but stare as Castiel reached forward and filled his plate with food. He felt all of his thoughts vanish into thin air. Castiel's pouted mouth moved, his voice was like a low hum, like a growl. Dean was fixated on him. He knew he should be scared of the beast, the large claws, the fangs, the bear like body. But all Dean could wonder was how the fur would feel on his fingertips, if those husk like wings would be soft on his skin, if that mouth on him would make him melt. What would he feel like? What would he taste like?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, his gaze dropped down to the table, to Castiel's pale silk white hands that were gripped around the cutlery. He had no fur on his body, other than his head, ears and tail, and his whiskers twitched.

It was bad enough that Dean caught himself staring at that mouth, but when he began to find even the beasts hands sexy, then he knew he was really in trouble. His rational self was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. He didn't know what that beast was, was he some kind of lab experiment gone wrong? Or had he modified himself?

...was he a werewolf?

But he was a beautiful beast. And Dean knew he had to keep his attraction to himself. Like his deepest, darkest secret, and as long as he didn't stare too much at the beast, then he could make it through the day. No one needed to know he had a massive crush on Castiel.

Of course, this resolution just drove him crazy.

"You are free to stay here for as long as you need, but I have a few rules," Castiel said, reaching for the stack of toasts and biting into one, he swallowed and looked up to Dean. "I ask of you to follow them, it'll be better for you and the others,"

"There are others here?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. "The other residents of this house,"

Sam narrowed his gaze, looking at Dean. They had never seen anyone enter or leave the manor. And they passed it once a week on simultaneous days. "I thought this house was empty."

"Empty can be taken in a lot of different forms," Gabriel piped in, slathering a pool of golden honey onto his stack of pancakes. "But the other residents will behave, they know better."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, leaning forward as Gabriel fed him. It was embarrassing for him, but there was nothing else they could do. His arm and leg was in a cast and he didn't know the house, or its other residents. But he was intrigued, they had been here for a night, and yet the only people he had seen was Gabriel and Castiel.

Castiel didn't answer. Instead he placed his spoon back on his plate, stood up and walked over to the wall by the door. The cupboard opened on its own, as if knowing just what Castiel wanted. The beast reached down and took out a large white box and placed it onto the wood of the dining table with a thump. The two brothers stared at the box inquisitively. Castiel ripped at the tape and pulled the box open. They leaned in to see the contents.

Castiel pulled out a small black rectangle and handed it to Dean. It looked like a phone. He took the contraption with wonder. It was small, with a black screen taking over the face with a few small buttons below.

"If you wanted my number, you only had to ask," He said, holding the gadget up. It beeped in his hands.

"Think of it as a GPS of the house, since it's so easy to get lost here," Castiel handed Sam the same gadget. "The buttons below move the map around, and tell you where everyone is." He pressed on the middle circle button and four little pulsating dots appeared on the screen, above was the words 'the dining room' he used the d-pad and showed them the rest of the house. "The red button lets out an emergency signal; it makes a horrific noise, but it alerts everyone else where you are."

Sam turned the GPS and saw a small red button next to the on and off switch. He pressed the button and a screeching siren woke the room up. The two brothers slammed their hands to their heads, covering their ears.

"Turn it off!" Dean yelled, glaring at the his brother.

Gabriel smiled, taking the contraption from Sam and pressed the button once again. "If you look on the screen, one of the dots is pulsating red."

"We want you two to feel safe here," Gabriel said, giving Sam the contraption back.

"I urge you to get a layout of the property," Castiel said, peering out through the large windows to the hurricane winds and showers of rain pelting on the doors and windows. "I don't think you'll be leaving anytime soon,"


End file.
